


bottle blond, borderline, i’ll never be your valentine

by dude_dude_dude



Category: Actor RPF, South Park RPF
Genre: 1990s, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Double Penetration, Jealousy, M/M, Open Relationships, Sloppy Seconds, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dude_dude_dude/pseuds/dude_dude_dude
Summary: Brent opened his box of cigarettes and slid one beige flecked end out to Trey.“Oh I don’t smoke,” Trey said, stopping himself reaching out for it on impulse.“Okay,” Brent said, unperturbed. “So you came out here to keep me company. That’s sweet.”
Relationships: Trey Parker/Brent Spiner, Trey Parker/Brent Spiner/Matt Stone, Trey Parker/Matt Stone
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	bottle blond, borderline, i’ll never be your valentine

**Author's Note:**

> I uploaded this because of Joli, who read my fics without knowing who Matt and Trey are, which encouraged me to upload some drawerfic I never thought I'd post because... well, I never thought anyone would be interested! Thanks, Joli ❤️
> 
> Notes: There is one use of the word "daddy" in this fic, if that bothers you. Brent did the voice of Conan in the South Park movie. He's 50 in this fic, and Trey's 30. This is all ridiculous and the timelines are probably a bit screwy but I had heaps of fun writing about Trey being sandwiched between two hot guys.
> 
> The title is from Spaceman by Chloe Black.

Since making it in Hollywood, Trey found it unsettling when people he’d never met already knew him on a first-name basis. The alternative, being called the overly formal Mr. Parker, was just as bizarre. That was the thought that stuck in his head when he came face to face with Brent Spiner, the actor who played Data on _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ , outside the gents in Paramount’s production office lobby. 

Blurting out “Brent!” seemed too forward, and just the idea of calling him Mr. Spiner made Trey feel like a kid caught in the hallways at school. Instead, all he managed to come up with in the split-second he had to think about it was a heartfelt yet deafening, “Hi!” 

“Uh, hi,” Brent said, with a mild look of concern he quashed with a polite smile. 

“You’re— _god_!” Trey laughed and tried to breathe normally. He didn’t want to look like any other crazed _Star Trek_ fan, but this was the first time he’d gotten properly starstruck since moving to L.A. He cleared his throat and went to try again.

“I’m flattered,” Brent said, raising a hand as though shielding himself, “but I can assure you, I’m not God.” 

Trey burst into manic laughter. “Dude, you’re like . . .” Fuck, what . . . what was he even trying to say? How did you start conversations without sounding like a total dork, again? His teeth were chattering, his hands were shaking, and he needed to take a fucking breath or he’d pass out. 

Appearing to notice Trey’s distress at not being able to get one word out, Brent offered his hand jovially. “You seem to know an awful lot about me,” he said, and his Texan accent was stronger than when he was in character. As Trey shook his proffered hand overenthusiastically, Brent added with a chuckle, “People usually do,” and, somehow, didn’t make it sound pretentious. “But why don’t you tell me who you are?”

“I’m Trey Parker, I’m—” 

“One of the _South Park_ writers?” Brent interrupted, again not seeming pretentious for doing so. If anything, it made him sound like he’d been paying attention. Maybe he already knew who Trey was and just wanted to make that clear. “I love that show.” 

“Really!” Trey’s voice almost broke with how high and loud it erupted from his chest. His cheeks felt like they were going to blow clean off his face from how much he was smiling. “That’s so cool man. So fucking cool.” 

“So, what’re you doing over here in the big house?”

Trey was used to that. People heard _South Park_ and they thought badly drawn cartoons full of fart jokes. They weren’t wrong, but that wasn’t something that got you through the doors of a huge Hollywood movie studio like this one. Until it did, of course. “We’re doing a movie,” Trey said excitedly.

“Congratulations,” Brent said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He glanced at his watch and Trey was going to have to ask this guy to teach him some lessons in charm, because that would’ve pissed him off if it’d been _anyone_ else. “Listen,” Brent said, leaning in close like he was about to whisper something really important. “I’ve got a meeting in about two minutes and I really can’t miss it. Would you—” 

“Do you wanna do a voice for us?” Trey blurted. He had to seize the opportunity. If he didn’t, he’d kick himself for weeks.

Brent nodded thoughtfully, expression shifting as he considered the offer. “Sure. Can you run it through my agent?” 

Trey’s smile fell. He tried to pull it back to where it was, with difficulty. That was the classic line people gave when they wanted to get rid of the annoying creep: talk to my agent. Trey had become the Rupert Pupkin of this situation, and he could already tell he’d be replaying this conversation for the rest of his life wondering where he went wrong. Where hadn’t he gone wrong?

“Actually,” Brent said, drawing out the word like silk through his fingers. “How about I give you my number?” 

Trey’s smile was back for real, and he didn’t have to try this time. “Absolutely! I mean, yeah, thanks man. I’ll call you.” 

Striding over to the reception desk, Brent gave a slight bow to the pretty receptionist and asked if he might possibly borrow her finest Biro and a square of paper. As he scribbled the digits onto a pink Post-It under the words ‘BRENT (CALL ME)’ in all caps, he told Trey, “This’ll get you my trailer. I’m in the middle of filming right now, so if I don’t answer the machine’ll pick up, ‘kay?”

Trey nodded, biting his lip with excitement. 

“Gotta run,” Brent said, throwing his thumb towards the elevator before powerwalking towards it.

“Thanks, Mr. Spiner,” Trey shouted after him. 

He thought Brent might call back that formalities weren’t necessary. Instead, just before the elevator doors opened, he turned and winked at him. The heat rushed from Trey’s face into his stomach. Brent Spiner, Data from _Star Trek_ , had just winked at him. Him! A nerdy choirboy from Colorado. He could’ve thrown up all over the lobby.

How the hell had he managed to make a good impression despite his fanboying? It didn’t matter because he had. Just wait until Matt found out about this. Trey would re-enact the whole scenario for him, voices and all, with only a few subtle tweaks to how he hadn’t been able to speak for most of it.

“Can I help you, sir?” the receptionist asked. Trey realised he’d been standing in front of her desk for who knew how long staring at the elevator Brent had gotten into. 

“Oh, no. Sorry. Thanks.” He folded the Post-It and slid it into his pocket.

*

Matt prodded his arm to get his attention, so Trey slid his headphones back an inch. “What?” On the other side of the glass, Brent had just finished his fifth take of the Conan scene. 

“I think we’ve got it, man,” Matt said, impatience straining his voice. They’d been so late getting Brent into the booth that Bruce had gone home like the rest of the staff and left them to it. They knew how the software worked. Well, Matt did. “How many times are you gonna make the guy do this?”

Sliding the input level up so Brent could hear him, Trey said, “Just a sec, Brent. That was really good, though.” He turned back to Matt and slid the level back down. “I wanna make sure it’s perfect.”

“No, you just wanna hang with him some more. Just ask if he wants to come for drinks or something. This is making us look like total amateurs.” 

Trey huffed a laugh and shook his head. “He wouldn’t wanna hang out with us.” The great Brent Spiner would have better things to do with his valuable time. As soon as they wrapped on this, he’d make one of his super polite excuses and get the hell out of this dingy shithole of a recording studio. Sliding the input up again, Trey leant close to the mic and slid his headphones back over his ears. “Brent, how long have you got tonight?”

Brent’s voice sounded like it was coming from the centre of Trey’s head when he replied, the mic picking up every nuance of his low, Texan drawl and sending its vibration through the pads of the headphones. “I’m in no hurry.” 

Trey turned to Matt. “Why don’t we get the whole scene down with us in there too?”

Matt frowned. “Why?” Before Trey could reply, he interjected, “We’d have to set up another mic. Bruce’ll be pissed if we mess with his setup.” 

“Brent?” Trey asked, smiling through the glass. “Matt’s gonna set up another mic so we can run through the scene together. Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea?” 

Matt rolled his eyes, mumbling, “Kiss-ass”. 

Brent spoke again, with his real spine-tinglingly low voice and not the higher Conan impression he’d affected. “Can I go for a smoke?” 

“Sure!” Trey enthused. “I’ll come with you.”

Behind him, elbow-deep in a box of mic leads, Matt groaned.

*

Out back, a wide metal staircase wound down to the parking lot. It was empty now, so the stairs overlooked an ugly rectangle of striped tarmac and a line of palm trees silhouetted against the city beyond. This was where most of the guys on this floor came to smoke when the studio was awake. Most of the editors, closed off in their own rooms, smoked inside. Everyone else respected the need for clean air in a place where voices mattered. 

Brent opened his box of cigarettes and slid one beige flecked end out to Trey. 

“Oh I don’t smoke,” Trey said, stopping himself reaching out for it on impulse. 

“Okay,” Brent said, unperturbed. “So you came out here to keep me company. That’s sweet.” 

Trey nodded, still unable to believe that Brent Spiner was here, right now, lighting up on _their_ back stairs. Things had moved fast since Brent returned Trey’s rushed, awkward answerphone message—well, the second one where he’d remembered to leave his number. Trey quickly found himself in the same situation as the Paramount lobby: unable to speak, but wanting to say everything. 

Brent spoke, eliminating Trey’s nerves by asking the most unpredictable question through a smoke-filled breath. “I bet you get a lot of attention from the ladies, don’t you?” 

“Uh.” Trey wasn’t sure how to answer that. Yes? Not as much as you’d think? Maybe Brent expected him to be humble. Or maybe he was inviting him to tell him an anecdote about a recent triumph with the ladies to fill this awkward silence? 

“An attractive guy like you,” Brent continued, giving him a sly once-over, “one who calls himself a bad boy.” 

“I guess,” Trey said, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden, like a kid getting a dressing down from his dad. “Why do you ask?”

Brent took a slow drag as he observed him again, his gaze spreading a heat beneath Trey’s skin as hot as the glowing end of his cigarette. “I’ve met a lot of creatives in my time, and it’s always the sweetest ones who hide behind that bad boy persona.” He waved a hand idly. “Merely an observation.” 

“Thanks, I guess,” Trey said, scratching the back of his neck. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“You were on like, the biggest show ever. You must get hero-worshipped a _lot_. By chicks I mean.” 

“I can read the signs,” Brent said, a heaviness in his eyes that gave Trey the feeling he was sharing a secret with him. “I love women and, strangely, some of them love me. But sometimes it feels good to, shall we say, keep different company?” 

Whoa. Okay . . . Was there any other way to read that? Maybe that was Brent’s backhanded way of saying that he appreciated hanging out with two dudes and not being ogled by fangirls or surrounded by hot actresses. Maybe he was blowing his own trumpet.

“I’m sorry,” Brent chuckled. “I do enjoy seeing you get flustered.” 

“Oh,” Trey said, laughing though not really sure why.

Brent dropped his cigarette and used the act of crushing it beneath his shoe to lean in a little too close. “If I haven’t made it obvious yet, I’m coming on to you.” 

Trey expelled all the air in his lungs in a loud exhale. There was no mistaking that. And there was no mistaking Brent’s hand sliding onto his waist and holding it gently. If someone had told him when he was eighteen and oddly attracted to the pale android dude on Next Gen—still under the impression that he was totally one-hundred percent straight—that he’d be getting chatted up by him one day, well, he’d have probably pretended to be disgusted, then jacked off over it later. The point was, this was totally, one thousand percent a _holy fuck_ moment, a moment so entirely off the charts that Trey didn’t think his mind was inside his body anymore. 

Time stopped as Brent asked, “Is that all right?” He tilted his head to stare at Trey’s mouth, his fingers stroking his waist encouragingly. 

Trey nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He crushed his mouth to Brent’s, forgetting everything he thought he knew about kissing, even to close his eyes, until Brent’s hand slid into his hair and held him still, calming him with a touch.

“Easy,” Brent whispered, breath warm, the rich taste of smoke lingering in it. His tongue slid against Trey’s mouth, teasing his lips open as he hummed appreciatively. 

There were times when Trey hated his body, and this was one of them. His legs had gone completely, and when he fell against Brent, Brent held him up and turned him with ease, pressing his back against the brick. He mouthed at Trey’s neck, and Trey’s whimper bounced off the studio’s wall and echoed off the empty tarmac.

“I knew you were a softie,” Brent said, voice rumbling in Trey’s ear. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you dear?”

Trey trembled, dizzy. “No, Mr. Spiner.” 

“Oh that’s nice,” Brent soothed, squeezing a handful of Trey’s blond locks in his fist. He kissed him again with slow, practiced confidence only maturity afforded. Trey had never had a kiss like it. He felt completely out of his depth, like a plaything, a kid, held in the arms of someone who viewed him as a novelty, but one he’d treat with the utmost respect. “When we’re done here,” Brent whispered, “you wanna come back to my apartment?” 

Trey was glad he had a wall behind him. He pressed his head into the brick and breathed, letting the question sink in as Brent sucked his bottom lip like he was tasting it.

“I—” Trey gasped, arching up against Brent’s hand as it brushed his crotch fleetingly, like a promise of what was to come if he said yes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but.” He swallowed his nerves. “I’m kinda . . . Well, me and Matt . . .”

Brent hummed, nodding slowly. “Understood.” He kissed him again, though it was more of a soft press of his lips than a kiss, his disappointment obvious. Trey clung to his shoulders, digging his fingertips in to make it obvious he didn’t want him to stop just yet.

“I mean, he’ll be open to it, if you’re . . . If we can . . .” 

Saving him again, Brent filled in the words Trey didn’t know how to say. “That wouldn’t be fair to any of us.” 

“Why not?” Trey asked, trying not to sound too desperate. He’d shared a girl with Matt before; this wouldn’t be that much different. 

“’Cause I’d want you all to myself,” Brent said in a low whisper. He stoked Trey’s chin with his thumb and Trey thought his legs were going to go again. “I’m honoured though.” Looking down at his hand, Brent swept his thumb over Trey’s wet bottom lip, a yearning on his face he had to bite back. “Thank you. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

Trey’s lip quirked into a smile. He wanted to remember this moment, the moonlight bouncing off Brent’s shoulders out here in the strange darkness of somewhere that was usually bustling, the look in his eyes, his taste on his tongue. 

“I really am sorry,” Trey whispered, enjoying Brent’s eyes on him almost as much as his lips. 

“Don’t be.” Brent straightened up then, and Trey found himself leaning towards him, following him with admiring eyes. “You’ve still made this old man very happy.” He pushed the door open.

“Dude, shut up,” Trey said, hot on his heels. “You’re like, forty right?” 

Brent laughed that low, sensual laugh of his and looked Trey up and down one last time in the doorway. “Always a flatterer, aren’t you?”

*

After the night of the phone call, he had to tell Matt. It felt weird not to.

Matt had dropped Trey a line from a noisy bar’s payphone to let him know the meeting with the promo guy was taking longer than expected. Going for drinks hadn’t been part of the plan, but they needed to butter this guy up to stop him turning the movie’s advertising campaign into something neither of them wanted. 

Loneliness got the better of Trey as the night went on, and there’d been nothing good on TV, so how was he supposed to resist seeking the attention of someone who’d probably be very pleased to hear from him?

Brent had answered after two rings. He sounded tired, until Trey said he was sorry to bother him so late, making sure to drop in a “Mr. Spiner” for good measure. After that, Brent had been awake enough to talk for almost an hour, until Trey was spilling over his hand at his command, biting his lip at being called a “very well-behaved boy”, and really starting to regret turning down that invitation to his apartment. 

Matt only seemed mildly concerned when Trey told him about the call, and the kiss outside the audio block. They’d already discussed their relationship, probably too much, and what they had between them was decidedly open. If it was just sex, nothing was off the table. If, at the end of the day, they came back to each other, it didn’t really matter. 

Thing was, it was always chicks previously. Another guy . . . well, that was something neither of them had considered. 

“Isn’t he a bit old for you?” Matt had asked, jealousy clinging to the edges of his words. 

Trey shrugged. “I dunno. I kinda like it.”

“Just, be careful dude,” Matt said, and that had been the end of it. 

The outcome seemed to be that if Trey wanted to fuck older men now that he’d made it in Hollywood, that was his prerogative. Something in Matt’s face betrayed that he was concealing something though, but when Trey squeezed his hand, he squeezed back. 

“If you don’t want me to see him again . . .” Trey said, trying to prise out that something Matt was withholding. There was every chance Brent wouldn’t even want to see him again; he’d said he wanted Trey all to himself, after all. 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Matt said, smiling weakly. “Honestly.” But Trey saw the discomfort in his eyes and hated being the cause of it. 

It was good to know Matt didn’t mind him jumping into other guy’s beds, but Trey decided then and there not to pursue this any longer. It was a dumb fantasy anyway. Nothing was going to happen between him and Brent.

*

Anne oversaw invitations to the premiere. Trey was allergic to organising things, so was more than happy to leave her to that unenviable task. If he wanted someone added to the guestlist, he dropped her an email. If she wasn’t sure about someone requesting to come along, she went to Matt. Trey never thought to check the list of people invited automatically. 

It wasn’t until the red carpet, Trey dressed in a ridiculous outfit he’d worn because he lost a bet, that he spotted a familiar face through the crowd of casually dressed attendees, and one that stopped him in his tracks. 

Of course Brent was here. And of course he’d dressed well for the occasion. Dark suit, no tie, hair—back to its usual dark silver now he wasn’t filming—swept back and styled to perfection. 

They hadn’t had time to speak before the screening what with Trey being busy with interviews and photo ops, but they’d ended up sitting in the same row in the theatre, Brent on one end while Trey and Matt sat at the other near the aisle. 

During the build-up to _I’m Super_ , Brent shuffled his way out into the aisle, whispering apologies to those pulling their knees into their laps to let him pass. Trey peered over his shoulder and watched him head towards the exit for the gents, yearning to speak to him. Even meeting eyes with him for more than a few seconds would be nice. 

He gave it a minute, bouncing his knee distractedly while Big Gay Al burst into song, then got up to follow him. What harm could it do to step out for five minutes? If he happened to bump into Brent, then . . . good. 

When Trey entered the restroom, Brent was zipping up before a urinal. Trey froze as the door swung shut behind him, wondering what the hell he was thinking. Like, oh hey, so thanks for talking me to orgasm a month or so ago; sorry I haven’t called since; you look fucking hot; thanks for coming. 

Why was it he forgot how to talk when they were face-to-face? 

“Hello beautiful,” Brent said smoothly, squeezing liquid soap into his palm at the sinks. “Congratulations on the movie. You and Matt, you’re geniuses.” 

“Thanks,” Trey managed. He realised he was still blocking the doorway like an idiot, but he couldn’t will his legs to move. He didn’t actually need to use the facilities, so the only option was making conversation, and he couldn’t do that either. What a total jackass. 

Shaking his wet hands over the sink, Brent slid a paper towel from the dispenser and walked over to Trey with a confident swagger. “It’s good to see you again.” 

“You too,” Trey said quickly. The desire to reach out and touch him was hard to resist, because he was really here, in front of him, that charming smile on his face that seemed to know more about what Trey wanted than Trey knew himself. “I’m really glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad too,” Brent said, tossing the paper towel and stopping a little closer to Trey than public decency afforded. Lucky nobody was around. “I thought you must’ve forgotten about me, gotten swept up in the whirlwind of Hollywood.” 

Trey blinked as Brent cupped his cheek with a soft palm that smelled of soap. 

“How could I forget you?” Trey said in a broken whisper, voice shot. On the other side of the door, loud laughter erupted, preceding an even louder burst of applause. 

“You should be getting back in there,” Brent said, dragging his gaze from Trey’s lips to stare directly into his eyes. He wet his lips with his tongue and Trey’s stomach twisted pleasantly at being the focus of his attention. 

“I’d rather be in here with you,” Trey said, closing his eyes as Brent’s fingers slid into his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. It was gentle, more chaste than that stolen moment during the recording session, and Trey sensed Brent holding back. 

“I shouldn’t keep you from a night you’ll want to remember,” Brent whispered, breath hot against Trey’s lips. “This is your moment, not mine.” 

Trey smiled, belly full of butterflies and adrenaline. “I’ve watched this fucking movie like a thousand times. I’m sick of it.” Another burst of laughter vibrated through the restroom’s door. “I know exactly which joke they’re laughing at right now, and which one comes next. If I go back in there, all I’ll be doing is thinking about you.”

Brent hummed appreciatively, kneading his fingertips into Trey’s temple. “Point taken.”

Trey let him lead him to the sinks by his waist, press him back against the marble and hold his face in his warm hands. He kissed Brent hungrily, messing up his quaffed hair with greedy, clutching fingers. When Brent purred against his lips, dipping his tongue between them, he grabbed Trey’s ass through his leather pants, squeezing hard. Trey felt his legs going again, falling head over heels.

Wrapped up in the moment, Trey realised too late that the door had opened. They pulled apart awkwardly, Brent furiously brushing fingers through his mussed hair as Trey realised with relief that it was only Matt who’d walked in on them. Concern rushed in immediately after that, because he’d never meant to rub this in his face.

Matt threw his arms up in surrender. “Don’t mind me,” he said, turning on his heels as Trey lunged out and grabbed him. 

“Dude,” Trey rushed, throwing an apologetic and appeasing look at Brent over Matt’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you I don’t mind,” Matt said, somewhat sternly. He tried for the door again, clearly wanting to get out of there, but Trey stepped into his path. “Trey!” A flush clung high on his cheeks, and Trey knew it wasn’t embarrassment. 

From behind them, Brent’s low voice asked, “Matthew?”

Matt turned to him, remarkably calm given the situation. “It’s Matt, actually.” 

“Matt,” Brent said purposefully, with a respectful nod. “I apologise if I’ve overstepped a boundary. It was never my intention to—”

“You’ve overstepped nothing,” Matt said, shaking his head. “But I’d appreciate it if you two could wait until the afterparty at least.” He shot Trey a look. “It’s gonna look weird if we’re not in there. So if you’ll excuse me.” He pushed the door, stepping out as another guy Trey didn’t recognise entered.

It was too awkward to stand in silence while the other guy took a slash, so Trey bit his lip and shrugged at Brent before getting back to his seat. 

*

Trey thought he’d been to every fancy cocktail bar L.A. had to offer. It turned out Brent knew L.A. more intimately. The place he’d taken them was the type of establishment you had to be a certain level of rich and famous to even know existed. 

They’d sat in a semi-circular booth of glossy black leather, exotic dancers, contortionists, and live music unable to distract Trey from the reason they were here: clearing the air.

All night Brent was extremely generous, buying them elegant—and expensive—cocktails that didn’t taste alcoholic but left that familiar light-headedness anyway, without any of the lethargy. 

Bellies warm from the drinks, they’d discussed the arrangement in guarded terms. Matt made it clear that he didn’t mind Brent and Trey having a thing if Brent knew where he stood in the grand scheme. Brent had been the perfect gentleman, respecting the few boundaries Matt vaguely discussed with complete gratitude and deference to his status in Trey’s life. 

After that, they’d enjoyed the drinks, the beautiful dancers, and Trey had found it hard to resist making out with Brent right there in the booth when he’d slid his hand under the table and squeezed his thigh. Matt was just as touchy, seemingly reenergised by Brent’s interest. He’d stroked Trey’s hands in plain sight, complimented him, even touched his face a few times, and Trey had never felt more like the world revolved around him. 

They shared a cab when they left, Brent immediately shifting to an appropriate proximity from Trey in a more public setting than the bar. Matt had never bothered disguising anything like that, especially when he had a few drinks in him, and when Trey made out with him in the backseat, he’d barely registered it as something they shouldn’t be doing. 

When the driver announced that they’d reached their first stop, it was Matt who invited Brent inside. It had never been the plan, but once the offer was made, Trey was desperate to be with Brent somewhere there was absolutely no chance of anyone spying on them. 

“Please,” Trey begged, batting his eyelashes while Brent considered it for not long at all. 

“How could I resist such a kind offer?” Brent said, a knowing smile on his face as he paid the driver a lot more than necessary. 

*

As soon as the apartment door closed, Trey was all over their unexpected guest. After three long, sexually frustrating hours spent resisting Brent, the desperation that’d built up flooded out all at once. 

Brent let Trey pepper his face with kisses as he led him towards the sofa, making surprised but encouraging sounds at how little time Trey was wasting. 

“Is he always this enthusiastic?” Brent asked with a sideways glance at Matt, finding himself pushed down onto the sofa by Trey’s eager hands. Matt sat at the other end, leaning against the cushions with an interested expression. He didn’t answer. 

Trey knelt at Brent’s feet, shuffling between his knees as he arched up to kiss him, properly this time. He’d fantasised about this too much recently: Brent’s soft, giving mouth; the way his tongue made his legs buckle; and how good it felt when Brent nibbled his lips, humming appreciatively at how it made Trey shiver. 

Brent’s hands rested on his shoulders, holding lightly, but his fingers dug in when Trey went for his fly. Trey’s hands trembled at the thought of Matt watching him suck another guy’s dick, and the knowledge of whose dick it was. He wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t handle a fly, but Brent softly moved his fumbling hands away and loosened it for him, sliding the zipper down teasingly slow while Trey stared impatiently. 

“Does he want to watch?” Brent asked, eyes fixed on Trey’s. 

“Yes,” Matt said firmly. “He does.” His cheeks were flushed, elbow braced against the back of the sofa while he twisted a loose curl around his finger—one of his tells; something he did when he was horny. 

When Brent slid his dick free, Trey’s mouth watered an embarrassing amount. Brent wasn’t at full mast yet, but he was getting there. His dick was gorgeous, cut like Matt’s but thicker, framed with that same elegant silver-grey. It filled out before Trey’s eyes, and Trey wondered how wide his eyes must’ve gone when he realised it was getting bigger than Matt’s. 

Using the tiniest amount of pressure against Trey’s nape, Brent encouraged his head down into his lap. He was sat straight, perched on the sofa’s edge, and from here, Matt would get quite an eyeful.

“Mmm,” Brent soothed, stroking Trey’s nape as he took him in hand and breathed nervously against the swelling tip. “It’s all yours, baby.” 

Goosebumps prickled down Trey’s neck at that pet name, inching along his skin beneath the warmth of Brent’s steadying hand, straight down to his balls. No one called him baby, especially not like that. It made him feel like an innocent virgin being taught how to fuck by a dirty old man. The night might end up going that way, if Brent’s phone sex was anything to go by. 

Trey opened his lips against the head of Brent’s dick and took it into his mouth as far as he could get it. Desperate to impress him, he took too much and too fast. As the blunt, thickening tip nudged his tonsils, he gagged hard, tears stinging his eyes. He really was bigger than Matt.

“Hey,” Brent soothed, brushing a thumb beneath Trey’s chin and easing him back a little. “There’s no hurry. Take it nice and slow.”

Trey clung to Brent’s thighs as he tried again, letting Brent lead with that soft palm against the back of his head. It felt better that way. Brent knew what he liked. Clearly, he liked Trey’s mouth, because he was getting harder against his tongue, easing his thumb around the edges of Trey’s stretched lips. He liked savouring the moment, paying attention to every detail. A strained hiss was his response to Trey’s suckling, testing how rigid he was compared to when they started. 

Matt cleared his throat and, oh, yeah . . . he was watching, wasn’t he? He deserved a good show for letting Trey do this. Kneeling there getting lost in the masculine scent of Brent’s crotch and fascinatedly tasting his dick probably wouldn’t look that hot. 

Bobbing his head, Trey winced inwardly as his teeth dragged over Brent’s sensitive skin. His jaw just couldn’t open wide enough for it to fit comfortably, and god damn it he’d never sucked this hard at sucking! Perhaps it was nerves or because he had an audience. Perhaps Brent was too goddamn hung. Whatever it was, he just couldn’t do it right. 

Brent pulled his head back slowly by his hair. Just as Trey was about to beg to be allowed to try again, promise he’d calm down because he really did know how to suck a guy good, Brent asked, “Shall we move this to the bedroom?” He turned to Matt as Trey did the same, wondering if he’d permit such a thing. “If you’d like to join us?” 

And wasn’t _that_ an idea. 

As Brent slipped himself away, Matt simply stood. He gestured towards the bedroom and holy shit, this was actually happening, wasn’t it? A threesome was something Trey had never thought to ask for, because he had no idea if Matt would be into it, but as he followed him to the bedroom with Brent in tow, it dawned on him that they might take turns on him, and that was about the hottest thing he could imagine.

Matt climbed onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard how he had on the sofa, interested but removed from the action: an observer. 

Before Trey could get any harder over the thought of being fucked all night long by both of them, Brent was lowering him onto his back across the foot of the bed. He’d taken his jacket off, and heat radiated through his crisp white shirt as he climbed on top of him, kissing Trey’s neck and pressing his thighs open to settle between them. 

As Brent explored him with his lips, the weight of his erection pressed into Trey’s groin—a promise of what was to come. Its taste lingered on Trey’s tongue, and the memory of its size had him fisting the sheets. He reached for it, but Brent pressed his wrist to the bed as he nibbled down the side of his throat. Trey obeyed the wordless command, keeping his hands where Brent could see them. Then he was sliding Trey’s shirt up, encouraging it up over his head. Once it was off, Trey shirtless and mildly self-conscious about it, Brent turned to Matt where he remained at the head of the bed. 

“Where does he like to be kissed?” he asked, as if Trey wasn’t even there.

“Collarbones,” Matt said, voice heavy with arousal. He swallowed, shifting where he sat. Trey saw how hard he was under his khakis before Brent’s head blocked the view, his mouth opening against, ugh, _there_ . . .

A moan erupted from Trey’s throat, Brent’s lips on his weak spot. He kissed along the bone, appreciating every inch, and Trey arched up into him when he sucked the delicate skin. That Matt had told him to do it made it even more amazing. 

The differences were mesmerising. Matt’s perpetual stubble was always a delicious friction against Trey’s skin, his sloppy lapping tongue a wonderfully wet experience. Brent was much more reserved, though no less passionate. He seemed to have more control of himself, was less frenzied about enjoying Trey’s body, and Trey was glad to let him do just that.

Brent squeezed Trey’s dick through his jeans all too briefly, teasingly soft, Trey’s whimper muffled by his shoulder as he turned his attention to his nipples. As he flicked his hot, silky tongue against the hard peaks, Trey turned to see Matt rubbing his clothed crotch idly with the heel of his palm. Their eyes met before Brent’s teeth closed around his nipple, forcing his head to grind back into the sheet, a bolt of pleasure shooting straight into his balls. He grabbed Brent’s hair, pulling him up to kiss him again, mouth open in invitation, desperate for more of that attentive tongue. 

“Please,” Trey begged mindlessly. He didn’t know what Brent planned to do to him, but he wanted whatever it was. He could do anything and everything he wanted.

“What do you want, sweetie?” Brent whispered between kisses. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me,” Trey blurted, feeling his cheeks flood with heat. “Will you? Please?” 

Brent swept Trey’s bangs back as he peered down into his eyes. “I’ll do anything you want,” he said, voice soothingly smooth. “With Matt’s permission, of course.” 

Matt gave his permission in perhaps the filthiest possible way. He slid open the nightstand drawer, withdrew their squeeze bottle of lube, and rolled it across the sheet to Brent. Brent took it, sharing a look of understanding with him, and Matt simply nodded and leant back against the headboard. 

“Take these off for me,” Brent encouraged, tugging the belt loops of Trey’s jeans before sitting up on the bed. 

Trey shuffled them down, taking his boxers with them, and he was glad he had some drink in him, because being butt-naked in front of two dressed guys, one of them being Brent Fucking Spiner, would’ve made him feel totally out of his depth if he was sober. As it was, he felt fucking fantastic. 

Brent’s eyes slid down his front to his leaking dick, and when he wet his lips with his tongue, Trey felt like the most desirable guy on the planet. 

“Beautiful,” Brent said in a reverent whisper, like the word alone was a kind of worship. “Such a beautiful boy.” 

That word crept under Trey’s skin as much as much as “baby” had. When Brent said it, it made him feel like an inexperienced wisp of a boy being treated like a treasured pet. It felt that way when Brent eased his legs apart, positioning them so he had a good view of his ass. Trey hadn’t realised he was panting until Brent encouraged him to take slow, deep breaths, reassuring him with a kiss to the inside of his knee as he squeezed lube onto his fingertip. 

That wasn’t enough. That definitely wasn’t enough. Matt always used more, and Trey would’ve demanded it. But there was no time to mention that because Brent’s hand was already between his legs, that slicked fingertip stroking over his asshole. Trey shuddered at the contact, expecting Brent to slide his finger inside. Instead, he gently massaged the muscle. 

“Is that cold, baby?” Brent soothed, kissing Trey’s knee again. “I’m sorry. It’ll warm up, okay?” 

Trey keened pathetically, feeling every bit the unexperienced kid because Jesus, Brent knew what he was doing. The way he touched, delicate but deliberate and not even inside yet, had his legs trembling. A warm, pleasurable flood crept up his spine as Brent’s thumb eased around his opening, drawing the kind of groans from his throat that had him biting his lip. 

“There we go,” Brent soothed, eyes fixed on the intimate place he was expertly touching. Under his breath, he whispered, “Opening up for me,” then wet his lips with his tongue. 

When he pressed his finger inside with the gentlest pressure, it slid in so effortlessly that Trey’s moan was more of a gasp. The sensation of a finger that wasn’t Matt’s was already different, but there was none of that initial tension in his muscles, that natural ache of being stretched. Brent’s attention had made him loose, ready, and he wanted that big dick filling him now more than ever. 

“Does that feel good?” Brent asked, a knowing smile on his face when he withdrew his finger slowly. When Trey nodded weakly, Brent squeezed out more lube, much more, and when his hand returned it was two broad, slick fingers easing in this time, again with barely any resistance. 

“Look at you,” Brent said, stroking Trey’s hip with his other hand, “taking my fingers so nicely. You _are_ a good boy, aren’t you?”

Trey almost swallowed his tongue. “Yeah,” he breathed, the word trailing off into a sigh. He’d happily lie here all night and let Brent finger him if it felt this good, if he got praised so highly for doing something so simple. 

Brent pushed Trey’s leg back, holding it bent at the knee while he kept opening him up slowly. Matt would get a graphic view of those skilled fingers sliding into ass from where he was. Through the heavy fog of pleasure, Trey saw Matt open his fly and shuck his boxers down, fisting his dick at the sight of his boyfriend spread-eagled before him, taking another guy’s fingers. He still had that brooding expression, his mildly jealous glare following the movement of Brent’s fingers as Trey moaned for more of them, but he chewed his lips too, too turned on to intervene. 

It was almost painful when Brent stopped, because Trey could’ve blown his load from his fingers alone. He withdrew them with a wet pop, leaning down to kiss him. As their lips met, his clothes rubbed over Trey’s bare skin, the uncomfortable friction against his sensitive dick making him hiss. 

“Why don’t you go and sit on your boyfriend’s lap, hmm?” Brent asked, and Christ, that came out of left field. 

Trey squeezed a handful of Brent’s silver hair in his fist as he sucked his tongue, nodding into the kiss before he’d even looked at Matt. If Brent wanted to go second, fuck his ass after Matt had, that was fine with him. 

Matt looked tense when Trey pushed himself up on his hands, and he got it: it was nerve-wracking to think someone was about to watch them make love, an activity that was their naughty little secret, their utterly private intimacy. Matt didn’t look unwilling, though. He kicked off his pants as Trey crawled over, leaving Brent where he sat at the end of the bed. 

“You ready?” Matt asked with concern, glancing down between Trey’s legs as he straddled him. Trey nodded, but Matt snaked a hand between his thighs regardless, making doubly sure he wouldn’t hurt him. His finger brushed the edge of Trey’s hole, the tip dipping in easily. He bit his lip, then groaned, “Fuck, you really are.” 

When he sank down onto Matt’s lap, he was shocked to find he could let his weight go completely with barely any discomfort. Matt’s dick slid in to the root, his balls flush to his backside, and Trey grabbed Matt’s arms as they steadied him. 

“Fuck,” Matt hissed, mouth hanging open. He squeezed Trey’s waist as he sat there heavily, full and relaxed and ready to give Brent the show of his life. 

Brent moved behind him, hand bracing Trey’s waist as he started moving. He rocked gently, feeling Matt slip out barely half an inch, then glide into his soaked depths again. Matt grit his teeth and full on _growled_. 

“Mmm,” Brent hummed, kissing Trey’s neck tenderly. “Has anyone ever watched you two do this before?” Trey shuddered when Brent started unbuttoning his shirt behind him, gasping at the press of his freshly bared skin against his back as he asked, “Well, have you?” 

“No, Mr. Spiner,” Trey said, voice breaking as rolled his hips. Matt moaned again, collapsing against the headboard, happy for Trey to do all the work. 

“Let me see,” Brent whispered. His hand slid down Trey’s back, lower, over the curve of his ass, until he touched where Trey was split by Matt’s dick. Matt shuffled then, repositioning himself so his bent legs were parted wide, knees beneath Trey’s armpits, letting Brent see everything.

Trey wanted him to see how good he could take a dick, how he’d blow his mind when it was his turn. Brent teased the rim of his asshole as Matt’s dick held it open, feeling the stretched, delicate muscle clench and flutter. His other hand rested lightly on his waist beside Matt’s, feeling Trey’s muscles tense and slacken under his skin as he moved with a steady rhythm. As Brent sucked his neck, Trey slowed, leaning back into his warm chest. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Brent asked, though the dark, rich tone of his voice made it clear he already knew the answer. His hand retreated briefly, and when it returned, it was slick with more lube. 

“Oh,” Trey drawled, head falling back against Brent’s shoulder as the lube got worked inside by Matt’s dick. “Yeah,” he breathed, swallowing hard. “That’s . . .” 

Trey’s gasp was ragged when Brent used the moment Trey lifted his hips to press his thumb against Matt’s shaft, fist wrapping around the base. As he sank down, both Matt’s dick and Brent’s thumb pressed inside together, stretching him further. He froze, grabbing for Matt and whining in relief when he took his wrist and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“So good,” Brent growled, flexing his slick fingers to massage Trey’s taint and the sensitive spot behind his balls. “Aren’t you good?” Trey shuddered and gripped Matt harder, wondering how in hell this was happening. “Want to move again?” 

“Yeah,” Matt breathed, thumbing Trey’s wrist. “Do it.”

The fact that Matt wanted it was ridiculously inspiring. Trey lifted his hips and sank down again, feeling his asshole accommodate both Matt’s dick and Brent’s thumb and desperately wanting more praise for doing so. When he didn’t get any, he did it again.

He was soaked, lube dribbling down his inner thighs. As he moved, slick sounds filled the spaces Brent’s heavy breaths and Matt’s panting didn’t. That sound recalled images of pornos he’d watched with Matt before they’d tried actually fucking each other, the sound of a slut being used. 

Trey whimpered when Brent took his hand away, but he wasn’t gone for long. He rearranged himself, closing the space between them as he slotted behind him, pressing his warm chest to his back. His socked feet slid under Matt’s bent knees, legs falling open either side. Then there his cock was, hard and hot and exposed, pressing against the cleft of Trey’s ass, and after Brent stroked himself, slicked in lube. 

“Sit up, baby,” Brent whispered, encouraging Trey to rock forward on his knees until only the head of Matt’s dick remained inside. 

Trey didn’t realise what Brent was doing until he felt his blunt tip nudge his asshole. He . . . he wasn’t going to try that, was he? No fucking way was that happening. No fucking way! 

“I can’t!” Trey gasped, panicking. He grabbed Matt’s shoulders for balance, staring down at him with frantic, pleading eyes. He couldn’t take two. That was impossible. Like, literally and physically impossible. 

Matt remained as mysteriously silent as he’d been all evening, merely looking up at him with heavy eyes, biting his lip. 

“Shh, sweetie,” Brent soothed, kissing Trey’s shoulder blade. “If it happens, it happens. Relax.” He drew that last word out in a whisper, rubbing soothing circles into the small of Trey’s back. “Deep breaths,” he encouraged, snaking his hand around to Trey’s front and gently closing it around his dick. “We’ll take good care of you.”

Trey’s legs trembled at the stimulation. His thighs were exhausted, muscles burning from holding himself up, and he couldn’t do it for much longer. Brent eased his foreskin back gently, tracing his thumb along its sensitive edge. Trey jerked, getting wet for him, drawing the deep breath Brent had asked of him as he tried to process the pleasure. As Brent slid the fragile skin up again, he made sure to spread that fresh pre-come over the head, making it as blissfully slick as the rest of him. 

Brent’s hand turned his muscles to liquid, working him so well that Trey almost wanted to do the impossible thing he’d asked. All he needed to do was sink back . . . 

But, fuck, no. He couldn’t. 

“Want to try it?” Brent asked, still teasing his length, making Trey’s head spin and his balls pull tight with how skilfully he handled a dick. “You can trust us.” 

Swallowing hard, Trey tried to decide, even when Brent’s perfect touches made logical thought seem impossible. His breath hitched when Matt took hold of his buttocks, spreading them gently in his palms, spreading them for Brent, making Trey’s decision for him. 

“You . . .” Trey lips trembled so hard his teeth clacked together. He clenched his jaw, taking another of those deep breaths to ground himself. “You have to be _so_ slow.” He cursed under his breath, delirious from the mere idea of taking two dicks—and big digs at that—at once. 

“Of course we will, baby,” Brent said, rewarding his bravery with a delicious twist of his fist. “We would never, ever hurt you.” 

Fear was a burning weight in Trey’s gut, but curiosity had his cock twitching in Brent’s soft palm . . . because how might it feel to be that full? Could he even do it? 

A look at Matt and he knew he could, because Matt was nodding at him, agreeing with Brent that he wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t push him, and that he wanted this just as badly.

“O-okay,” Trey stammered, screwing his eyes closed as he drew another deep breath and tried to mentally prepare himself for the complete unknown. “Okay.” 

His every nerve fired in anticipation as Brent’s steady hands led him where he needed to be. He pulled him back gently, helping Trey tilt his hips, and then there it was: the press of Brent’s dick next to Matt’s, the blunt tip soaked and thick and nudging his asshole and—

“Fuck,” Trey whined, head dropping forward. Brent’s dick slipped in beside Matt’s, finding its way inside, inching in slow, and the rest of Trey became a figment, vanishing as his body and soul focused down onto that impossible sensation.

Matt hissed, grabbing Trey’s waist. “Yeah,” he groaned, digging his fingers in. “Yeah. That’s . . .” 

“You’re doing so well,” Brent whispered. 

“Yeah,” Matt said, unable to say anything else. 

“So well . . .”

“Fuck.”

Despite feeling like he might split in two, Trey sank back further, head spinning at the mind-numbing feeling of being stretched to his limit. He panted fast as they slid deeper together, halfway in, his head falling against Brent’s shoulder. It was too much. Too fucking much. It was such a tight fit, the deep ache spreading through his groin leaving him feeling completely out of control.

“I—I can’t,” Trey whimpered, feeling his legs going. He couldn’t hold himself up any longer. There wasn’t any strength left in him. 

“We’ve got you,” Brent said, that soothing timbre to his voice like a caress. He and Matt had him, supporting his weight and keeping him in place when he collapsed. “You’re doing amazing,” he promised in a whisper. “Such a brave, brave boy.”

Trey groaned loud and rough, mouth hanging open ungracefully as Matt stroked his thigh, the touch easing his tremors. He didn’t have the energy to take Matt’s hand, to sink his fingers into his curls and cling to him for comfort; all he could do was pant himself hoarse while his body adjusted to that impossible girth.

“Almost there,” Brent said, pressing his teeth into Trey’s shoulder and biting down possessively as Trey sank into their laps. “Th-e-r-e you go.”

Trey was sitting without help, Brent and Matt buried in his ass together, impaling him. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. He was utterly unable to move, either Brent’s dick or Matt’s—or both—wedged against his prostate that throbbed with his racing pulse, sending shudders from his groin to his fingertips, the roots of his hair, the tips of his toes. Somehow, he was doing this. Somehow the discomfort of being stretched started giving way to the blistering pleasure of being full. Somehow, it felt . . . fuck, it felt fucking incredible. 

Trey sobbed, totally overwhelmed, eyes stinging with tears as he found himself shared by the man he loved and a man he was more physically attracted to than anyone on the planet. It was intense, every breath they shared as three people sending tremors of pleasure through him that left him quaking. 

Brent’s hands felt like fire as they stroked Trey’s thighs, kneading more of those calming circles into his skin. Matt’s hands worshipped him too, brushing feather soft over his waist, toying with the sharp edges of his hipbones.

“Perfect,” Brent whispered, the word sinking into Trey’s ear red hot and molten, melting into his core. “Think you’re ready for us to move?”

“God, I. I . . . It’s too—” A tear wet Trey’s cheek as he swallowed hard. This was all he’d considered before: getting them inside. He hadn’t thought about what happened next. His brain wasn’t working properly right now.

“Let’s try it.” Brent said it like an instruction, and Trey had no energy to babble more words at him.

Matt shuffled up on his arms then, the movement leaving vibrations of pure bliss in its wake. He was probably finding the right angle to thrust up into him. But he slid his hand under Trey’s head instead, pulling it up from where it rested against Brent and into a kiss. Trey was too stunned to kiss back, but he let Matt lick his open mouth, sucking his lips before asking, “You okay, man?” 

Another tear escaped as Trey nodded, sliding down his face and dripping from his chin. He sounded like he’d been crying for hours when he managed a pained “yeah,” into Matt’s cheek. All he wanted was to reach for him, but he couldn’t lift his arms, could hardly breathe, and then he and Brent moved together and he almost blacked out. 

Their extremely gentle thrusting wasn’t well-coordinated at first, but they worked it out. Matt held Trey’s head as he pushed up from the bed, driving in so deep Trey whined like he’d been run through with a sword. Behind him, Brent’s warm belly pressed into his back, his hips bucking up into him in small, sharp jerks. 

“Is it good?” Matt asked, voice a husk. 

“It’s, amazing,” Trey panted. Now he was over the initial shock that his body could actually do this without breaking, he was in heaven. 

Matt dragged his nails over Trey’s scalp, kissing the side of his mouth as he fell into a rhythm with Brent, expertly fucking up into him, grunting with the effort and the payoff. Brent sucked his neck, holding him in place as he enjoyed him, shared him, breathed hard against him. Trey had never felt so much sensation at once. His skin was aflame with it, the thudding pressure against his prostate making his balls throb, forcing desperate sounds from somewhere deep in his chest that he’d never heard himself make before. 

When he finally found the strength to open his eyes, Matt was staring at him, captivated, his mouth agape. He looked stunned, the way he did after a particularly powerful orgasm, but the concentration on his face—the way he looked while watching a particularly filthy porno—was hard to ignore. Despite his vulnerable position, a surge of power energised Trey at being able to cause Matt to make that face. Matt’s gaze followed him as he leant back, turning to press his face into Brent’s.

“Oh, baby,” Brent breathed, bending to lick his open mouth. “You’re perfect.” He grabbed a handful of Trey’s hair, crushing their faces together as he made out with him messily, possessively, still fucking him. 

Matt was watching, so Trey reached back and dragged his fingers through Brent’s perfect hair, messing it up and tugging it, drawing a deep growl from him that rumbled through his chest and left him breathless. 

Brent smiled, licking his lips. “You love being centre of attention, don’t you gorgeous?” When Trey nodded, Brent pushed his thumb into his mouth and told him with a strict tone, to suck. 

Brent’s thumb pressed all the way in. Closing his lips around it, Trey shut his eyes and sucked, moaning at Matt’s gasp. Brent snapped his hips up, his balls smacking his ass with a wet slap that had Trey sobbing in shock, reaching out to grab Matt’s hand, knowing instinctively where it was.

“I’m gonna come,” Matt said urgently, almost bringing everything to a halt. 

“Hold it off,” Brent told him. “A spritely young thing like you can last longer than I can.” Turning into Trey’s temple, he spoke to him instead, voice low and laced with an unbridled lust as he slid his thumb over Trey’s wet lips. “Your perfect little asshole wants to be stuffed all night, doesn’t it?” 

Matt collapsed and screwed his eyes closed, trying to do as he was told. 

Nobody told Matt what to do. Nobody. So that was fucking hot. 

“I can’t move,” Matt said, sweeping sweaty curls back from where they’d stuck to his forehead. “I need a breather.” 

“You enjoy the view then,” Brent said, still speaking into Trey’s temple, besotted with him. He kissed him deep and slow, staying as still as he could for Matt’s benefit. Stroking his knuckles down Trey’s cheek adoringly, he let his gaze linger a while before his hand moved lower to stroke his collar bone. He chuckled at Trey’s strained reaction. 

“Matt,” Brent said, shaking his head. “You’re the luckiest guy in the world, getting this gorgeous thing all to yourself.” He twisted Trey’s nipple then, pinching it hard between his fingers. Trey almost screamed. 

“Oh, he likes that, does he?” Brent asked.

“Yeah,” Matt said, swallowing loudly. 

Brent started moving again, rocking gently in and out, his cock sliding beside Matt’s while he squeezed and stroked that aching nipple. It was all too much. Trey wanted to jump out of his own skin. Sensation had overloaded him, leaving him winded and wrecked and on the verge of blacking out. Somehow, Matt knew. He stroked Trey’s wrist, comforting him, bringing him down to a level of sensation he could cope with.

Brent wrapped an arm around Trey’s waist, fingers fanning over his abdomen as he held him there on their dicks. He arched up, sparks bursting behind Trey’s eyelids as Brent pressed down on his tummy, pulling him onto him hard. 

“Fucking hell,” Brent breathed, his first curse of the night creeping under Trey’s skin and rattling his bones. “I’m not far behind you, Matt.” 

Matt always got bigger when he was close, and Trey felt it now. Two dicks stuffed into him, thick and buried as deep as they could get was, incredibly, something he’d gotten used to. He felt that change inside, Matt’s cock stiffening out as he grabbed him in desperation. 

“I’m—fuck!” Matt said in a rush, a burst of energy forcing him up from the bed. “Holy fuck . . .” 

Brent reached out then, pulling Matt forward until Trey was crushed between their heaving chests. Matt’s hips spasmed, breath hitching in his throat as a flood of warmth burst deep in Trey’s ass. His dick pulsed, a second flood making Trey whimper helplessly. Why wasn’t Matt moaning? Why wasn’t he—

Oh. Oh . . .

Brent was kissing Matt, their mouths locked as Matt kept coming, whimpering against Brent’s tongue as his thighs tensed and his fingers dug into Trey, pulling him down onto him. Trey held his breath, listening to their tongues sliding together, mesmerised. Matt shuddered, releasing another wet spurt inside him.

They moved together again, still making out over Trey’s shoulder, their cocks gliding over Trey’s prostate, the way silken and slick with come. 

“He’s wet,” Brent said, hand in Matt’s hair, tongue sliding over his lips. 

“Yeah,” Matt breathed, still hard, still buried. “He’s soaked.” He turned into Trey’s temple, sighing with relief and amazement. “You’re soaked.” 

Trey knew. He really, really did. He could’ve come then, from how much of Matt was spilling out of him, until Brent asked Matt another question, as if he knew Trey was incapable of answering for himself. 

“May I have the honour?”

Matt nodded, meeting Trey’s eyes briefly as his softening cock slipped free, leaving Trey mourning its loss. He fell back against the pillows, chest heaving and groin soaked, reaching out with what looked like his last stock of energy to squeeze Trey’s hand encouragingly. Trey finally got it: it was Brent’s turn now, and he was going to fill up even more. 

Brent pulled out then, and Trey was sure he’d never felt emptier, more desperate to have that void filled.

“Lie back, baby,” Brent whispered, gently moving Trey’s aching body where it’d been before, where they’d given Matt that glorious view. “Daddy’s gonna make you come.” 

Shit, okay. He was never going to hear anything as arousing than that again in his life, was he? 

It was all a hot blur as Brent climbed on top of him, spreading his slack thighs and sliding into his loose, fucked-out asshole while Trey sprawled helplessly on his back. From this angle, Brent could get deeper, that solid cock driving in so deep Trey’s toes curled. On the edge of his nerves, he whined with need, needing Brent, needing Matt, needing to come. 

Brent stroked his hair back and held it in a tight fist. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, rolling his hips, and fuck, he knew exactly where a prostate was. “Feel how wet Matt’s left you for me?” 

He could _hear_ how wet he’d left him, but being asked that, being reminded of how full he was, made his head spin.

“Brent, I’m—” He was what? Sore. Desperate. Delirious. On the verge of tears again. So, so close. 

“I know, baby,” Brent soothed, like he understood it all. “I know.” He drove in deep again, breath hitching as his body tensed. “Oh, baby,” he breathed, and Trey knew he was trying not to come yet. 

Trey savoured the moment. He clung to Brent’s broad shoulders, hands sliding down to where his hips pistoned between his thighs. The muscles in Brent’s ass tightened and softened as he pumped into him, that wet thud where their bodies met shaking Trey as he thrust in and out, in and out, relentless, panting hot against his neck. 

Brent pressed his nose into Trey’s hair, cock throbbing as he stilled a moment, breathing deep. He slid out almost all the way, looking down at where they met, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it before pushing all the way inside again. 

“You gon’ come for me?” Brent asked, voice strained with how much he was holding back. 

Trey whimpered, sobbing from the pleasure as he thrashed his head against the bed. It was too much and yet, not enough, just not getting him there, and he desperately wanted to do what Brent asked, please him, come for him, but he fucking couldn’t.

Matt was beside him then, his hand snaking between their bodies to take hold of Trey’s dick. He knew what Trey needed, how to get him from the cliff edge to tumbling over the side. Brent shifted his weight, giving him better access. 

“I’m here,” Matt whispered, kissing Trey’s jaw as he squeezed him in his fist, dragging his wet tongue over his stubble. Brent kissed his other cheek, bucking his hips, the broad tip of his cock pounding hard into his prostate.

Trey lost it. 

The explosion of relief, tension and pleasure had him crying out a strangled sound that seemed endless, a string of moans and stammered whimpers punctuated by his muscles clenching around Brent’s dick, stealing the breath from his lungs. On either side of him, Brent and Matt whispered encouragement, hands all over him, stroking and touching reverently, worshippers at his shrine. 

Brent slipped out somewhere within that honey-thick haze of pleasure, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth. He grunted and gasped, coming over Trey’s asshole, hot ropes of it hitting used skin, spurting thick over the tightening muscle before he pushed it back open again, releasing the rest inside. Trey felt every spasm and jerk as Brent’s dick claimed him until he overflowed, balls pulsing until they were emptied dry.

“You did so good, baby,” Brent breathed, voice thick as he collapsed on top of him, still inside, staying stiff, his dick throbbing. 

Trey was gone. There was no coming back from that. He didn’t even have the energy to open his eyes. His skin was on fire, his mind a tangle of loose threads and exhausted, overworked nerves. He’d never felt so heavy or satisfied in his life, so adored, so debauched and used.

He must’ve passed out briefly, because Brent wasn’t inside him when he found himself gasping air into his lungs. Somewhere beyond the haze of pleasure, Matt stroked his temple, helping him come back to himself. 

Brent’s hot palm slid down his front, knuckles nudging Trey’s spent dick as his hand crept between thighs that were still spread open on the sheets. He touched Trey’s asshole, fingertip trailing the swollen rim. 

“Feel,” he said, and Matt’s hand joined his, touching where he was fucked loose and leaking onto the bed. 

“Shit,” Matt breathed in awe, his finger dipping inside briefly. He kissed Trey’s jaw almost apologetically. “Dude, you’re . . . you’re amazing.” 

Time felt slow, like hot sand sliding through Trey’s fingers. His throat hurt. His legs hurt. His asshole fucking hurt. But that molten pleasure still thrummed through him, turning his limbs to lead as he lay there, happily being admired. The discomfort was worth it to feel them like this, infatuated with his body, appreciating it with soft hands and kisses, praising him in whispers that sounded like prayers. 

The bed dipped as Brent slunk off, returning with a damp washcloth that was deliciously cool against Trey’s burning skin.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he asked, stroking the cloth between Trey’s legs, his inner thighs, up over his tummy, gently wiping him clean while Matt stroked his hair. He’d never felt so pampered.

“I’m tired,” Trey mumbled, rolling into Matt’s chest, desperate to be held. He jolted as his legs finally closed, the sharp ache shocking him. 

“C’mon,” Matt said, tugging him lightly towards the pillows. Somehow, Trey managed to crawl that short journey, glad when Brent—now wearing his boxers and open shirt—joined him. 

He collapsed against Matt, nuzzling into his shoulder. Brent pressed himself against his back, his chest a warm, comforting presence as he stroked his waist, still admiring him. Matt hadn’t ceased his admirations either; his hand was in Trey’s hair, thumb stroking his cheekbone, and when Trey opened his eyes, he saw him smiling at him. 

“You okay?” he asked with that perfect smile. Trey’s heart swelled, and he couldn’t help leaning in to kiss him, to feel those comforting lips on his and know how much he loved him, enough to give him a night neither of them would forget. 

Matt kissed back. And, wow. Trey couldn’t remember the last time Matt kissed him like this, like how a starving man eats, ravenous, infatuated, like he’d never get a chance to kiss him again. It soothed every ache in Trey’s body, made his hair stand on end, had his tired dick tingling with interest. When Brent pulled him away, gently parting them, Trey moaned in distress, wanting Matt’s mouth again. Until Brent’s lips were on his, warm and soft and moving slow, tongue sliding inside. He kissed him like he wanted him to know he was his too, if only for tonight.

Trey wouldn’t always have this, have Brent, and the realisation pulled his chest tight. He moaned into Brent’s mouth, turning into him to hold him, clutch his hair and make the most of him while he could. Matt sucked Trey’s collarbone while Brent tongued him, and Trey had never felt so exhausted yet rejuvenated at the same time.

He whined into Brent’s mouth as Matt cupped his balls, squeezing them gently, rolling them in his palm. He knew Trey’s body better than Brent, knew what he liked, where he liked to be touched during the comedown of an exquisite fuck, and somehow, that felt more intimate than anything they’d done all night.

“How’re you feeling?” Brent asked, breaking the kiss. Trey turned into him fully, forehead flopping against the light coating of silver hairs on his chest. 

“Beat,” he breathed, sighing when Brent stroked the back of his head and let him settle. “Wanna sleep.”

“You sleep,” Brent soothed, his voice loud as it seeped through his chest into Trey’s ear. 

He could hear Brent’s heartbeat, feel the soft rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathed, and Trey found himself dropping off to that wonderful melody. 

Matt pulled him back to reality, tugging purposefully at his shoulder and rolling him back to him. Brent let him go, shushing Trey’s soft groans as he was turned into Matt’s arms, both of them circling his shoulders to hold him against his chest. And yeah, this was where he was supposed to be, where he felt safe and whole and utterly content. 

“As it should be,” Brent whispered, pressing a soft kiss between Trey’s shoulder blades. 

It was the last thing Trey felt before he fell into a heavy slumber.


End file.
